


Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

by Sakon76



Series: Cornucopia [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: American Gods Inspired, Gen, Supernatural Shenanigans, mythology AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 14:08:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakon76/pseuds/Sakon76
Summary: Bitty and Jack aren't the only gods still around.  At a game, they encounter someone from Bitty's past.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Series: Cornucopia [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014006
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

It was the Stanley Cup finals and Jack, as always, was there, watching, breathing in the perfume of tens of thousands of fans' earnest prayers. And a finer, headier draught, the fierce determination of two teams' worth of players giving it their all.

A hockey lover in his own right, Eric was there too. No frazzled chef, frantically paging through a cookbook, was calling for the kitchen god right now. So he leaned unseen against the boards beside Jack and winced as a blue-and-yellow player took a particularly brutal check and play was stopped. "Still rooting for your team, sweetheart?" he asked.

Jack shrugged. "So I have favorites. Doesn't mean I'm going to win it for them."

"Nope," Eric agreed.

In the end, the Falconers did win the Cup again, and Jack and Eric did their own celebrating as the trophy circled the ice.

"Wanna kiss at center ice again?" Eric teased.

"Sure," Jack replied with a grin. "For luck, you know."

"Just for luck?" Eric took his husband's hand and towed him after, searching for the right spot. "Now, I think it was just about here--" His voice cut off, smile fading, as he looked past Jack, into the stands.

"Bits?"

"I know him," Eric said.

Jack followed his gaze, but didn't see what Eric did. "Who?"

"That man there, in the Aces jersey. With the stein in either hand. I know him, Jack."

"O...kay." Jack clearly managed to find who Eric was talking about, but didn't follow. The man had spotted them as well, and paused his wild carousing, the drink in either hand held in mid-air. Then a sharp grin slashed across his face. He chugged down his drinks. The cups disappeared as he dropped them. Careless of the people around him, he walked forward, and stepped through the glass.

"Oh," said Jack, catching on. "He's like us."

* * *

The man sauntered over to them, and Jack used the time to try and assess him. He was taller than Eric, though not by much, and had dark curly hair and a muscular build. His skin tone made Jack think he was of Spanish or Greek descent, and his eyes... the only words that came to Jack were "wine-dark." Which was really strange, because Jack was not a poet. Something in the man's gleaming smile made him feel edgy, though, like this encounter could be the beginning of a really great time, or the beginning of a literal bloodbath.

"Well, look who's still around," the man said, grinning at Eric.

"Bach," Eric managed.

"Haven't seen you in ages, Empanda."

Jack could feel Bits' spine stiffening up. "I go by Eric these days."

"Ahh, took a vacay among the mortals, I see." The man's gaze slid up to Jack's face. "And who's this?"

"Jack Zimmermann," Jack introduced himself. "God of hockey. And you are?"

A small breath snorted from the man. "A game god? You've really lowered yourself," he told Eric.

"A good man," Eric shot back. "Not that you'd know much about that. And I'd die for him, so keep your mitts off my husband."

"Games come and games go," was the lazy reply. "You'll be widowed in a century, little baker. You and I are eternal. Others... not so much." His glance at Jack was dismissive.

"Hey--" Jack took a half-step forward, but was blocked by Eric's arm.

"Don't," Eric told him in a low tone. "Bacchus has said his piece, and I'm sure he was just leaving." Jack could hear the honed steel in Eric's voice. "I'm sure he has alcoholics to enable, cars to wrap around street lamps, that kind of thing."

"Don't test me, Empa," the other god shot back. "This whole crowd? They're _mine_. You don't want me sinking your new husband's sport with a tragedy, do you?"

Eric opened his mouth to respond, but Jack beat him to it. "Actually, you're wrong," he told Bacchus. "This crowd is _mine._ They're here for hockey. Because they love it. They're here to worship at _my_ shrine." Jack knew it. He could feel it--could feel every single person in the stadium, if it came down to it. He might not have been a god long, as things went, but he was smart and had never once in his existence been less than completely dedicated to any pursuit he'd set his mind to. Bacchus might be older, might be more powerful, but he was also full of shit. "Your libations? They're nice. Cute, even. But they're not why these people are here." His gaze bored into that of the god of wine and insanity. "You're standing in my shrine, and you've insulted myself and my husband. As I understand it, that's a call to war."

"Honey, don't--" Eric said, but Jack spoke over him.

"I may be only the god of a game, but I've studied war and I don't like it," Jack said. "I don't want to start one with you. But all the same, I'd appreciate it if you could move on."

Bacchus studied him for a long moment. Finally, the hint of a smile quirked up one side of his mouth. "You never would drink," he said, and Jack had the sudden realization that the god knew him, or of him, through all the kegsters he'd been to at Samwell, and before. "You stopped being fun a long time ago."

"I needed something else," Jack said. His arm snaked around Eric's side. "Something stable."

"Well," said the other god, "we all have our flaws." Smirking, he saluted with a wineglass in hand, and wandered off.

Eric's body was still tense under Jack's arm as Bacchus disappeared. "Old friend, I take it?" Jack murmured.

"Yeah. Well, maybe more frenemy than anything," Eric said. "We're... well, I'm yeast and fermentation, and so is he, but we go completely different places with it. Maybe we were twins once, or brothers, or something. I can't remember. But either way, he goes too far for me."

"I can see why."

Eric smiled up at Jack. "Though I do admit to being impressed, honey. Standing down an old, old god? Impressive."

"Eh. He really wasn't any worse than the football team or LAX bros back at Samwell," Jack said, and was rewarded with Eric's laugh. "Now, about that kiss?"

**Author's Note:**

> On realizing it was Pi(e) day (3/14 in American date notation), I knew I had to post something for our favorite pie-maker. "Empanda" is the name of a Roman goddess of bread. What I've read about her resonated very much with Bitty's nature. I hope you enjoyed the story.


End file.
